


Shield-Sister

by jollux



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Companions, Emotional Baggage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Minor Violence, Original Character(s), Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Pining, Slow Burn, Swordfighting, Tags Are Hard, Useless Lesbians, i need more lesbian content everywhere, women are hot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-10-07 00:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17355959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jollux/pseuds/jollux
Summary: When the Companions come into Ingrid's life it seems like a chance to get everything back in order, to find a new purpose, but soon she's in over her head and getting a little more than she bargained for.  As soon as she gets there one member can't seem to warm up to her no matter what, she all but gives up until they're forced together and have to try to put their differences aside for the good of the people.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a thing i've been working on for a hot sec so i hope everyone enjoys

“Well, boys, it’s been lovely,” Ingrid gloats, the high midday sun burning holes into her irises.  Being in a dark cell for the past week tends to do that to someone. She squints under the midday sun, but relished the feeling of the rays hitting her skin after days in the dark.  “Same time next week?” She teases, still trying to get a rise from at least one of the guards.

The one on her right was running low on patience, his grip tightens.  With her lack of armour, his gloved fingers were bound to leave bruises through her ratty tunic.  She grits her teeth, bearing the pain, knowing that they were nearing the end of the line.

With a swift push forwards, Ingrid’s tired body gives way and she falls to her knees.  A sack of her belongings hits the ground beside her, thrown by one of the guards before retreating back inside.  A week (or was it ten days?) of no proper food, drink, or sleep finally getting to her. She needed a hearty meal, then maybe a strong bottle of mead.  

Or maybe three.

She pulls a dark cloak from the bag to cover herself and the evidence of where she had been these past few days and makes the walk of shame down the grand stairs of Dragonsreach.  It was known around Whiterun that Ingrid had never been a friend of the law, but she was in no rush to parade around the fact that she’d gotten caught.

By the looks she’d gotten from those when she passed the Gildergreen made it clear that they knew.  She clutched the sack close to her and tried to hold herself up with her normal sense of pride but she was so hungry her body didn’t want to stand let alone move.  Some of them definitely knew what had happened, the priest praising Talos had seen her marched up the steps, he had yelled a blessing to bring her luck if what was waiting for her up there happened to be a chopping block.  It hadn’t.

* * *

 

Ingrid entered The Bannered Mare through the kitchen door, careful to avoid Hulda.  She grabs a pheasant breast, trying to settle the aching hunger pains clawing holes in her sides.  She hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon, it helped a lot when the wardens liked you and they were all sick of seeing Ingrid’s face at this point. 

“We were all worried, you know,” Saadia says in a hushed voice, interrupting Ingrid shoving the tender meat into her mouth.

“I’m not sorry for what I did, that bastard had it coming.”  She grimaced, remembering the pure evil in his drunken eyes as he held a helpless woman against the brick wall.  She wanted nothing more for him to pay for his actions, to see his blood on her sword all the way to the hilt. She pulled a dagger from her worn leather boot, grabbing a fistfull of his greasy hair and yanked his head back with force, pulling him away from the woman who was frozen with fear.  She held the dagger to his throat, saying that if he dared to move she would fucking kill him. She wouldn’t think twice. She got distracted, by the woman, wanting to make sure that she was okay. He used this to his advantage, tearing the dagger from her hand and lunging towards her. In his drunken stupor he missed all the vital areas of her body, leaving a deep gash into her right arm.  The next few minutes passed in a hail of fists that was still unclear to her. The next thing she knew she was being pulled away from him by the determined hands of two Whiterun guards, back away from the Bannered Mare and all the way up the stairs to Dragonsreach. “She doesn’t know, does she?” Ingrid questions, hoping Hulda just assumed she’d been tasked to take out some bandits, or something.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t say anything, you know that!”  Saadia exclaims, slamming her knife down on the counter. She was right, they’d been over this before and Saadia was sick of hearing it.  A few months ago Ingrid got some assassins from Hammerfell off her back with promises not to tell Hulda about her past, since then there has been an unspoken agreement between the two of them: Hulda did not need to know about Saadia’s past or Ingrid’s history with the law.

“It wasn’t even that bad, he was fine, and I can’t help that he had friends in high places, and I was only gone for what?  Six days?”

“Eight!  You were gone for eight days, Ingrid!”  She slammed her knife onto the counter beside her.  Her voice is still quiet but her urgency is still well conveyed.  “You’re going to kill poor old Hulda, I swear.” She sounded less angry near the end, more concerned and sad.

A pang of guilt struck into Ingrid’s gut, paired with the concern of how off her sense of time had been.  Saadia sighs, not expecting a response she turns back around to continue cutting vegetables.

Ingrid knows that Hulda worries for her, like she’s the daughter she never had, deep down she knows that Hulda hates when she leaves like that.  Hulda has always hated how danger seems to be drawn to Ingrid but has always known that there is little she could do about it, not only is Ingrid not her child or even her ward, but nothing yet has been able to slow her down.  When Ingrid was 19, it was discovered that she was the Dragonborn, and Hulda almost fainted. The thought of Ingrid being Divines know where fighting not only bandits and bears but now  _ dragons _ , was too much for her.

Ingrid shoved all that aside, finishing her pheasant’s breast, she dragged herself upstairs to her room.  It was rudimentary, really, nothing more than a shabby bed, chest, and fur rug on the floor, but it did the job.  Her room wasn’t exactly permanent either, for years there had been an unspoken deal between Ingrid and Hulda: there would always be a bed here for her if she would want it, and as long as she would do a little work in the Bannered Mare, of course.  So far, she’d always come back here and there has always been a small room off of the hallway upstairs to greet her.

* * *

 

Dressed in an old faded green dress and leather boots Ingrid prepares to face Hulda after disappearing for days without a word, and imprisoned no less.  Before leaving she slides a dagger into the side of her boot, not wanting to risk anything again. Sometimes a weapon helped her while she worked, considering a large part of what she did was break up bar fights and sometimes kick out patrons who have more drinks than anyone can handle, even a Nord.  In rare cases she’s even had to drag some who have drinken themselves half to death to Danica at the Temple of Kynareth in hopes she can keep them alive until they have sobered up.

Heart hammering in her chest, she prepares to face Hulda, grabbing bread from the kitchen on her way still trying to renourish herself after way too many days behind bars.  Hulda glares at her as she enters the main room, slipping through the patrons with full bellies and near empty cups of ale.

Ingrid doesn’t say anything, not sure where to start, she grabs an apron from behind the counter and tying it behind her waist.

“I know where you were,” Hulda interrupts.  Ingrid feels her heart sink and a wave of shame washing over her.  Hulda knows that Ingrid has been on the wrong side of the law for half her adult life, but Ingrid still felt ashamed for it, she wanted Hulda to think better of her, see her as a put together young woman.  Ingrid herself had never been too apologetic about her legal standpoint but she was well aware of the social stigma it held and didn’t want Hulda to view her as less for it. “I payed a pretty septime to a guard for that information, said that he dragged you up to the jail for attacking an Imperial officer.  That was ridiculously stupid, Ingrid.”

“I didn’t know!”

“You went out to chop wood and vanished for days!”  The volume of their argument was beginning to draw the attention of the patrons.  Hulda quieted. “Justー” she sighed. “Just try to be more careful next time.”

“Iー”  She meets Hulda’s glare, reading the concern in her sad eyes.  “Fine.”

 

* * *

 

The tavern grows busier as the night wares on, workers and merchants just getting off shift filter in to drink their worries away.  Within the stone walls and gathered around the burning fire in The Bannered Mare, the trials and tribulations of the daily grind could no longer touch them here.

Ingrid winds in and out of tipsy patrons, carrying trays of ales or chicken thighs, cooked to near perfection by Saadia.

“Another round?”  She asks Uthgerd the Unbroken, an old regular at the tavern.  If Ingrid knew anything about her is that she’s always up for another round, she answers but Ingrid was always on the way back to the counter.  

She returns with two bottles of high quality mead, from the newest shipment from Black-Briar Meadery, putting one down in front of Uthgerd and keeping the second from herself.  “How did it go with the Companions?” She asks, sitting down across from the warrioress.

Uthgerd groans.

“Not good?”  Ingrid pulls an apple off the table between them, inspecting it.

She takes a long drink from her bottle of mead.  “Terrible!” The bottle slams on the table. “They put me up against some little kid, they must’ve thought I couldn’t win against a grown adult or something, and he couldn’t hold his ground.  It wasn’t my fault he died! It’s not my fault I thought I’d fight someone who’d at least ever been in a fight!”

“By the Divines,” Ingrid responds.  “You don’t need some guild to be a good fighter though, you only need yourself to prove that.”  She cut slices of the juicy red apple with the dagger kept in her boot.

“You’re so cliché,” Uthgerd laughs.  “Not everyone’s happy being such a lone wolf.”

Ingrid shrugs, shoving the last slice of apple into her mouth and drinking down the last of her bottle of mead before getting to tend to more guests.

“Ingrid!”  Hulda calls from behind the bar, the Dragonborn spins around at the sound of her name.  “Show this man to his room, if you could,” she finishes at a quieter volume.

She nods, smiling at the weary traveler, seeing barely any response in his tired eyes.  “This way.” She leads him up the stairs, always on her toes, being alone with any man she perceives as slightly intoxicated puts her on edge, the feel of the dagger in her boot brings her comfort.  She opens the door with a brass key before handing it to him. “It’s yours for a day, if you need anything come to me, Hulda, or Saadia.”

He doesn’t respond but when he looks at her his eyes are full of lust.  Her stomach sinks a bit, she shoves past him back into the hallway. “Leaving so soon?”  He slurs. Her heart starts racing. He stumbles after her. She gasps for air but her throat won’t allow any of it in, he grabs her hands and holds them down in the dirt, she struggles and pulls at them, but he’s too strong, she’s too weak, too tired, too hungry, too young.  Noーnot him, not the drunken traveler in front of her.

She pulls the dagger from her boot, holding it up only inches from her face.  “One step closer and I’ll cut your organs out and feed ‘em to wolves,” her voice is quiet, shaking.

He steps back, walking pack to his room.  “Crazy bitch,” he murmurs to himself.

She steadies herself on the wood paneled wall, trying to control her breathing.  In the reflection in her tiny blade, she looks disheveled. Her hair is askew and her eyes are dark and tired, she looks emaciated and like she’s about to pass out.  She resheaths her dagger, taking a deep breaths, like the oxygen filling her lungs will push out the problems, the things she’s experienced, and the fear and the hate, would all filter out with her breath.  All she needs is a good night of sleep and a stiff drink, everything else can wait.

When she heads back downstairs it’s last call, thank the Nine.  She couldn’t last another few hours running on eight days of nearly no sleep.  She grabs the last few empty bottles on the ground as the last few patrons filter out into Whiterun or up into their rented rooms.

“I need you to do me a favour tomorrow,” Hulda states, counting a few coins left on the counter.

“That’s what I’m here for,” she laughs.

“I need a deer and a couple rabbits for meat, anything else you catch is yours.”  A repeat of a common task for Ingrid, she nods.

* * *

 

The thought of her tired body hitting the lumpy mattress felt incredible, anything to sleep on besides the cold stone ground of Dragonsreach felt like a gift straight from Talos himself.

She strips from her dress, sheds her boots, and prepares to slip under warm furs and disappear entirely.  Leaning over her bed she goes to blow out the candle on the nightstand, a note sits on her pillow. That’s odd.  She grips the parchment and pulls it to the candlelight, revealing a short message in scribbled, forced print:

_ Found you _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to clear her mind, Ingrid spends the day hunting but trouble is always drawn to her.

Sleep takes hours to come, but once it does, it feels like perfection.  Ingrid’s sleep was deep and dreamless, catching up on the last week of restlessness.  She wakes to the startling reminder of the note left on her nightstand, crinkled by her fingers, shaking as her heavy breathing wrecked through her body the night before.

She holds it up in the weary morning light from the window, making sure that it was true and not some sick hallucination, dream, or false memory born from somewhere deep within her psyche.  It was real, it starred back into into her recently woken eyes. The eight lettres bounced around in her mind, throwing their tiny fists into the sides of her skull. Maybe it was stupid to sleep there after she’d found that but she was so exhausted that if she’d even tried to move her body, she’d fail.

She didn’t want to think of it, she didn’t want to question who it was from.  Today, she would add another lock or two to her door, she would sleep with a knife under her pillow.  If she needed to, she would be invincible, untouchable. After the past few years she’d grown too comfortable, stopped looking over her shoulder.

The feel of her worn leather armour comes as a great comfort.  Ingrid has always preferred to keep her armour light, the silence and agility it provides her is a blessing when it comes to hunting.

She sheaths a sword on her hip and a bow and quiver on her back.  She’s far from the best at using a bow and would never use it against an armed opponent, but an animal with minimal chances of fighting back is a worthy cause.  Her sister, Edla, was always the best when it came to archery, she could shoot circles around Ingrid. Edla could never hold a candle to Ingrid’s ability with a sword, though, so they were more or less on equal footing nonetheless.

In their youth, Ingrid and Edla would spend hours play fighting and testing each others’ skills with some advice from their parents on how to improve their strikes, blocks, or stances.  Their father, Grimbold, had been quite the adventurer in his youth, before settling down with their mother, Betrine. He had spent time working as a hunter for several years and made money selling meat and hides to civilians or other sellers that was actually how he met Betrine, she had been a leather worker in Markarth, training to be a Priestess of Dibella (though unsure if it was her true calling, the blue skies and rolling hills of Skyrim still called to her) when Grimbold offered her some hides he had caught the day before.  She thought he was charming, his darker blond hair and freckles were endearing, she invited him to get drinks with her at the local tavern that evening, and they’d been nearly inseparable ever since, creating quite a successful business model in the process: Grimbold would hunt (with some assistance from Betrine) and sell the meat while Betrine would turn the hides into leather goods, she was quite talented and the maker of the leather necklace that has been glued to Ingrid’s throat since she was thirteen, Edla had an identical one.  After a few years of their wayfaring lifestyle they decided that maybe settling down was the right choice, as they grew older the idea of a real homestead as opposed to a series of inns to come home to had become way more appealing. They spent years raising two daughters, with Grimbold’s honey blond hair, Betrine’s soft cornflower blue eyes, and the stocky muscular builds of true Nords. Their life was the kind written in fairytales, before the evil witch appears and curses them for eternity.

Hindsight is always crystal clear and looking back it was too perfect, really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that eventually it would all go to shit.  It was, though, because no one expects for everything they’d ever known to change in a matter of hours. The carpet had been ripped right out from under her when she was only 16, that was when she started having trouble with the law, too.  They were probably related, honestly, but she didn’t like thinking about that too much. Feeling like she didn’t have anyone to ‘be good’ for (whatever that meant) or anyone left to disappoint, for that matter, so it didn’t matter if she was hauled up the steps to Dragonsreach in the late hours of the night, and if she rubbed a guard the wrong way and she has the living daylights beaten out of her on one of the landings up the stairway.  If her parents knew what kind of trouble she’d run into in the last seven years they probably wouldn’t be disappointed in her legal standing, well, the technical standpoint maybe, but in the majority of situations it had been Ingrid doing what she had felt was right, would that not be what they would want for her?

 

“I should be back before the evening rush,” Ingrid says to Hulda, the older woman was sweeping the floor in front of the counter during the midday slump in business.  There were a few customers in for lunch, usually just transients getting a last solid meal on their way out of town.

“Don’t worry about it today, you did a lot yesterday.  Take the evening to rest, honey, you need it.” Hulda smiles at her sweetly, concern and fondness painted across her aged face.  It wasn’t often for Ingrid to even work two days in a row, anyways, usually it was only three days a week at most.

The term of endearment fills her with warmth, the reminder that Hulda cares for her makes the corners of her mouth shift upwards into a slight smile.  “Thank you very much,” she responds.

* * *

 

The cool morning breeze ruffles through Ingrid’s hair, the plaits tied back with leather cords keep it all more or less out of her face.  It’s refreshing, you don’t feel country breezes like this within the towering walls of Whiterun.

“How much to rent her for the day?”  She inquires to Rasten, the stable boy, about her favourite horse, Goldie.

“Six septims, 

“That’s twice as much as last week!”

“Sugar gave birth to a colt two nights ago so we’re a little short staffed.  But I’ll tell ya what, it’ll be four if you bring me back a rabbit.”

“Fine,” she says reaching into her coin purse and counting out four septims before handing them over to Rasten.  He rolls them around in his palm as Ingrid retreats into the sanctity and comfort of the company of her favoured mare.  Though not her own property, Goldie had long been her primary steed, she was more reliable than any other horse Ingrid has ever had, she could run faster than any other in the stable and carry as much game as Ingrid could hunt.  “Good morning, my sweet one,” Ingrid coos, running her fingers through her mouse brown mane and red dun coat, gleaming golden in the sunshine, hence the name. She saddles her, and jumps on, relishing the feeling of Goldie’s deep breaths beneath her.  Goldie canters further away from Whiterun, though still within reasonable walking distance. “Just over here, girl,” Ingrid breathed as she leads Goldie to an abandoned section of a fence, the most of which no longer stands. Tieing Goldie’s reins to post of the fence before leaving to hunt closer towards the river and further from Goldie as to let her relax for a while.

A doe is peacefully drinking from the river, lapping up the sweet fresh water under the mid morning sun filtering in through the treetops up above.  It was nearing the end of summer, the leaves would begin to turn colours within the next couple of weeks. The fall had always been Ingrid’s favourite time of the year, the colours were beautiful and it reminded her of the annual harvest and celebrations with her family in the first week of Frostfall.  The Mare has some festivities for the end of harvest, though they were not the same as those with her parents and sister. Hulda was a surrogate family, she felt towards Ingrid like an aunt would feel towards a niece, but the harvest festivities at the Mare usually consist of a large themed dinner that is served to the patrons as well as staff.  Not the same. A slight sadness twinged at her heart, filling her chest with a slight ache, she shakes her head, pushing it all to the side.

She approaches the river, staying covered by the trees.  She pulls an arrow from the quiver, resting it just above the grip, and squaring her aim onto the forehead of unsuspecting doe.  She slows her breathing to a near halt in an effort to keep her bow and arrow still. She releases, the arrow soars through the air and across the river like a bird.  It meets the doe, piercing the nape of her neck, her eyes bulge near out of her skull and her mouth opens into a quiet scream before she falls to the ground, her muzzle landing in the water she had just been drinking.

Ingrid wades through the shallow river to the doe, chilled water filling her leather boots.  “I’m sorry, love,” she whispers to the doe, thanking her for her sacrifice in order to feed people, how noble and selfless it was of her.  The doe is heavy, she’s a strong one, but Ingrid’s strong Nord shoulders are able to support her, under slight strain. “C’mon, girl,” she breathes, trying to stabilize her footing before heading back to Goldie, shifting her weight back and forth on her feet and shifting the doe’s weight on her shoulders until it feels as comfortable as carrying a deer can.

Goldie is busy grazing when Ingrid approaches, raising her sunshine coloured head to scan over her, green grass poking through the sides of her mouth.  Ingrid smiles, affection for the sweet mare flooding her. She retrieves a spiral of rope from a pouch on Goldie’s saddle, tying the doe over her saddle, securing the hooves together under her belly.  Petting her nose as she leaves, disappearing in a different direction of the forest.

A curious rabbit is exploring the moss covering the roots of a tree five metres from Ingrid.  She reaches for her bow before changing her mind, a rabbit is a much smaller target than a deer and she doesn’t have that much confidence in her archery ability, she reaches instead for a dagger kept in a sheath on the outside of her boot.  It was evenly cut and with the blade outweighing the hilt, perfect for throwing.

Moving quietly she adjusted her stance, careful not to disrupt the rabbit.  She leans back onto her dominant leg, with her left arm bent at the elbow, gripping the dagger by the blade and holding it behind her head.  Throwing her weight forwards she releases the knife as her arm swings towards the rabbit.

It connects near instantly with the rabbit’s flank, the force pushing it’s tiny body away from Ingrid.  The feeling of a dagger in her hand felt way more natural than a bow ever could, like the blade had been made to fit into her palm.  A small smile breaks its way onto her face at the perfection of the hit, she considers herself relatively skilled at it and that hit impressed her.  Since she was younger, throwing knives had been her favourite form of weapons but admittedly it was less versatile than others so she focused more on the sword at the recommendation of her father.  Grimbold saying “For Talos’s sake, Ingrid, learn something  _ useful _ ,” while her sister mastered archery and she learned the niche skill of knife throwing was seared in her brain, it made her smile a little this time,  _ I do have useful skills _ , she thought.

She moves to inspect the rabbit and take back her knife before crouching, hidden and still, waiting for another rabbit to roam the area unsuspectingly.  They’re abundant here, it takes but fifteen minutes for another one to come into view, and after moving a little deeper into a forest it doesn’t take long to catch another, until she’s walking back to Goldie two hours with four dead rabbits in her arms, like a colour spectrum from chestnut brown to cloud white.  Goldie neighs in greeting, or maybe approval at the catches. Securing the rabbits to Goldie’s saddle by their feet, patting her neck. “Time to head back, old girl,” she coos softly.

* * *

 

The sun’s not too high, creeping its way across the sky until it inevitably sets in the north later that night.  She likes that, the inevitability of it all, how the destiny of the parts of the solar system has been set in stone since Talos himself walked the earth.  Every star and planet know exactly where they will be at this time tomorrow, a year from now, she respects their certainty. Certainty about where she’d be in a year from now was a luxury she didn’t possess, like the moon does.  Tomorrow a dragon could attack somewhere near Whiterun and the guards ram down the door of the Mare, demanding Hulda and Saadia to tell them where she is, holding swords to their heaving chests. They’d give her up, of course they would, not out of spite or malice, and she wouldn’t fault them for it because it was the guard after all  _ how bad could it possibly be _ ?  They would yell her awake and she’d get into her armour quickly, knowing why they were here, it had happened twice before.  One would grab a fistfull of her hair and yank her towards the door before she had time to put on her helmet, she would yelp at the pain and pull back against it but she would follow them, if mainly for the sake of making sure they get out and leave Hulda and Saadia alone.  She’d be escorted through the town like a damned parade and brought to the scene of the crime. “Kill it!” They’d order, who was she to disobey? And what, let Whiterun and everyone in it be destroyed by some fire breathing snake? She’d do it for the high as well, the feeling of power as the ancient soul courses through her veins, it feels like they’re frozen and simultaneously on fire.  Or she’d be burned or slaughtered where she stood and everyone would move on with their lives. She was envies of the certainty of the moon.

“Nice game,” a rough voice growls somewhere to her right.

“Back off,” she hissed as she turned to the source, heart hammering to her chest.

“Would be such a shame if something happened to the pretty huntress, out here all alone out here.”  The bandit reaches up and grabs her by the jaw, forcing her head to the side.

“I said fuck off.”  She steps back and reaches for the sword sheathed at her hip.

“Now, now, little lady, we don’t have to do this.”  He draws his sword as well, swinging it up to meet hers in between them with a  _ clang _ .

She dodges his next strike, she sets her sight on his flank.  He blocks her attack but too late and it forces him to stumble backwards.  In the corner of her eye, two more bandits come through the trees to her right, swords drawn.

Ingrid does her best to hold them off but she’s hungry and tired and there’s two many of them.  She’s slowly losing ground. Goldie rears, kicking her legs in front and neighing wildly in protest.  By the grace of the Nine her front hoof connects with the skull of one of the bandits, he stumbles before falling unceremoniously to the cobblestone paths.   _ That’s my girl _ , she grins.  The two left fight harder, out of vengeance, maybe.  She can’t keep up. Her arms begin to scream as she holds her sword against theirs, trying to keep them from spilling her guts on the trail.

Another figure approaches the chaos.  So, what? Is this it? She’s struck down where she stands by three starving bandits after her deer and rabbits?  Seems pretty anticlimactic, for the Dragonborn, nonetheless. Since she was 19 Ingrid just kind of figured it’d be a dragon that got the best of her and not three bastards roaming some trail looking for victims.  When she was 19 she didn’t necessarily see herself making it to 23, but that was all from her occupational hazards, not running errands. 

By the grace of Talos the new mystery woman doesn’t swing her sword towards Ingrid, but to the bandits.  She even  _ smiles _ at Ingrid.  She’s a strong fighter, too, helping Ingrid they push them back until they give up and retreat into the forest.

“Who are you?”  Ingrid heaves through ragged breaths.  The woman looked vaguely familiar, Ingrid was certain she’d seen her before, probably somewhere around Whiterun, or in the tavern, but with the amount of people who filter in and out of there day to day it’s impossible to keep track of them all.

“Someone who thought you needed help, I saw what those sons of bitches were doing, it ain’t right.”

“Thank you,” she acknowledges.

“I”m Ria, by the way,” Ria smiles, holding out her hand.

“Ingrid.”  She took it.

“I don’t know if this is really my place to say...”  Ingrid cocks her eyebrow. “But if you’re not too tangled up right now you should come join the Companions.”  Ria grins, proud of her offer.

“Iーthank youーbut why?”  Ingrid questions, caught off guard by the proposition.

Ria scans her eyes over Ingrid’s tired body, taking her time to think of an answer.  “You look like you need something to fight for.” She sheaths her sword. “And we’re looking for new members, anyways.  See you around?”

“Yeah, see you around.”  Ria starts out on her way, not giving Ingrid any time to begin thinking about the offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working to update this pretty regularly but like I said last time I have school shit to do lmao


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I read the wikihow about how to skin a rabbit for this so you better appreciate it

“Steady now, girl,” Ingrid whispers to Goldie, running her fingers through her mane, trying to calm the spooked mare from the incident.  “No one can hurt you now.” She wraps the reins around her hand and begins leading her back to the stables.

When the return Goldie’s relieved the have the weight taken off her back and Rasten’s grateful to see the promised rabbit.  “I should employ you more often, huntress.”

“In your dreams,” she mutters, not in the mood for any banter.

Throwing the deer back over her shoulders she heads back into the kitchen of the Mare.  “I’ll skin ‘em in a minute,” she calls to Saadia, setting them down on the floor save for one rabbit.

 

“Good afternoon, Anoriath,” she smiles to the Bosmer merchant standing in his allotted stall in the Whiterun market, hoping politeness could score her a better price.  “How are the catches today?”

“Depends what you’re here for, the elk was plentiful yesterday,” he responds, leaning closer towards her over the booth.

“Looks incredible,” she compliments, batting her eyelashes slightly.  “Now, how much would it be for this one.” She holds up the white rabbit with her bloody hand.  “He’s fresh, caught him myself but a few hours ago.”

Anoriath inspects the rabbit for a moment, debating it’s monetary value.  “Fifteen septims.” He brushes the soft fur on its back, matted down with it’s own dried blood.

“Beautiful,” she sighs to herself, dropping the coins into her pocket.

* * *

 

Though not working as a bar wench/bouncer tonight, Ingrid had ways to keep herself busy.  A doe and two rabbits are calling her name.

She gets to work with the deer first, dragging it out back behind the inn to spare possible customers from the proceedings.  She spares her favourite throwing dagger from this, instead grabbing a few hunting knives from a drawer in the kitchen as well as a cooking pot and bucket.

She whispers a last prayer of thanks over the body beautiful doe on its back with it’s legs spread, closing her empty eyes with her fingers.  She takes a hunting knife and feeling for the breastbone with fingers decorated with the dried blood of her catches. Ingrid inserts the knife just under the doe’s sternum and drags it down the belly, blood quickly filling the wounds.  She removes the organs, placing all but the heart and liver into the bucket, and placing the two left into the kitchen pot. Saadia probably wouldn’t appreciate her pot being left on the dirt ground. Lastly she removes the digestive tract, cutting around the doe’s genitals in order to free the intestines and adding those to the bucket.  Assessing the doe, she decides to skin the deer later and get and skin the rabbits first.

The first rabbit is a mousy brown colour, a young one, too, she thanks him for his sacrifice to her and places him on the ground on its belly.  Grabbing a smaller, shaper, knife, she pinches the hide just behind the head, making the first cut. The knife glides through the fur, making a substantial incision behind the neck.  Putting the knife down she inserts her fingers under both sides of the incision, tearing them away from each other, grabbing more as she rips, lastly pulling out the legs. The fur’s heavy, it’ll be warm in the coming winter, maybe she can sell it to someone make wristlets for her.  Though it’s still Last Seed, the cold in Skyrim comes faster than anyone imagines and it’s never too early to start preparing. She removes the organs and pelts from the remaining rabbits, leaving Saadia to carve the meat of their bones in any way that she sees fits.

 

_ The Companions _ , she thought from the quickly cooling bathtub, scrubbing dried blood from her skin.  She wasn’t going to lie, she had thought of joining the guild before, growing up near Whiterun the glory and impressiveness of Jorrvaskr tantalizing.  When she was young the local children would play with wooden swords pretending to be Companions, it had always seemed like more of a childhood fantasy than it ever did a genuine option in her adult life.  It still wasn’t an option, really, she’d probably have to do something to prove herself, she’d always imagined they were at least a little exclusive. If she went there sometime soon they could just as easily turn or away, or she could fail their tests, and even if she successfully jumped through every hoops they could throw at her maybe they wouldn’t like her stance with the local law enforcements.  A warriors guild would probably have noble and maybe law abiding morals, would it not?

She looks to the coagulated blood under her short fingernails, frowning at the evidence she couldn’t seem to clean off.  What did she have to lose? If she goes tomorrow, knocks on the door of Jorrvaskr and just lets whatever happens happen, what’s the absolute worst that could happen to her?  She be turned away? She could take a healthy amount of rejection.  _ So that’s it then _ , she thinks,  _ tomorrow I go to Jorrvaskr _ .

Maybe a life changing decision deserves more attention than Ingrid’s given it but she didn’t have to make a decision yet.  She’d only decided to give herself the option of maybe having a decision to make further down the line. This was just step one, if she gets in she’d go over it a little more in depth.  Hopefully.

It was just so much of a childhood dream of hers that she could never be able to turn it down, at least not up front.  Any child who grew up in Whiterun would never be able to turn it away, it was like she’d been offered to be her own childhood hero.

She gets out of the bath quickly after, the water had gone cold and once she’d made up her mind she didn’t want to give herself too long to rethink her decision.  Leaving a cold bath into the colder air the chill sunk down to her bones, sending shivers dancing across her skin. She wrapped an older bear pelt around her shaking shoulders, warming herself slowly.  The coffee Saadia made a few minutes ago helped her reheat as well, she’d shoved a mug into her shivering hands as soon as she’d entered the kitchen. Her teeth chattering and her soaking hair probably gave away her body temperature.

“Do you think she’d be okay?”  Ingrid asked, wringing her wet hair out with thick linen once she was dressed in her set of leather armour.  “If I left, I mean.”

“Why?  Are you thinking of leaving?”  Saadia questions, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Noーnot nowーbut I can’t be here forever, and, I mean, she knows that, probably, but if I did do you think she’d be okay?”  Her words are stumbling out of her mouth.

“You’re like her daughter, Ingrid, she’ll miss you but she’ll be okay.  Just come to visit sometimes, yeah?” Saadia looked to her with sad eyes.  If she did move out, she’d miss Saadia, too, they’d grown to be pretty close friends over the past few years and valued each other’s company greatly.  When Ingrid was 17 and Saadia had recently just started working for Hulda Ingrid even harboured feelings for her. Saadia, being in her early twenties at the time saw her as a child and thought her nervous advances were adorable.  Her feelings didn’t last long, Ingrid grew up and accepted Saadia’s disinterest in her and how she would never see her as more of a friend, or a little sister.

“Of course I’d come back, I was just thinking how maybe it’s time for me to go do my own thing.  Maybe start a family or a farm or something, I don’t know.” Ingrid swears that Saadia’s eyes widen slightly at her suggesting she could start a family, in surprise mostly, maybe she’s imagining it.

Saadia nods, thinking over what Ingrid said.  “I’d say go do what makes you happy, even if it takes you out of Whiterun.”  Ingrid nods to her in agreeance, expecting the conversation to be over. Saadia’s one where often less is more and conversations with her usually aren’t a time consuming affair, she’s an intelligent woman though and is more than capable of getting everything she wants to say out in the open.  “I just have to ask,” she continues, catching Ingrid by surprise. “Are you starting a family?” She grins at her, her tone mischievous. Saadia pokes her in the belly with a wooden spoon and giggles. 

“By the Nine,  _ no _ !”  She laughs and rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, saying her goodbyes and downing her coffee and heading out to complete the other errands left on her agenda.  Despite her best efforts, when Saadia mentioned starting a family the only thing she could think of is Ria’s gentle smile.

* * *

 

Her top priority was to buy something to secure her room, a deadbolt, specifically.  It would be more difficult to enter a room with a deadbolt than it would be to enter one with just a single lock.  Purchasing the security measure was took almost no time, she just had to speak to the blacksmith and lose most of the gold she gained from hunting.

The installation process was a little more time consuming, unfortunately, she was never the best with tools, they were way more precise and finicky than you’d ever get while swinging a sword.  Though it eased her nervousness just a bit. She was careful not to be lulled into a false sense of security, someone was looking for her and they’d been in her room while she was in Dragonsreach.  She couldn’t get too comfortable, she’d never be able to be completely comfortable here again. Finding somewhere else to live is of top priority, if she wasn’t safe here no one else was.  _ What a terrible hostess I’d be if I cause the deaths of the entire inn _ , she jokes to herself.  The humour eases the fear but she knows that she’d never be able to live with herself if something happened to Hulda, or Saadia.  Hell, if anything happened to any patron died because of her it would eat her from the inside out until she died. The thought that it  _ could have  _ happened hurts more than she’d ever admit.  As few as two days ago someone was  _ in here _ .  What if they made too much noise and someone came to see what was going on and caught the wrong end of a sword?

She’d always felt protective of everyone in the Bannered Mare to varying degrees.  Being the one whose job it has been to break up bar fights and keep the men of questionable motivations away from the women they always seem to be way too close to, she feels like their protector and if anything happened to anyone it would be on her.  If someone was to break in in the middle of the night it would be Ingrid they expect to put a stop to it, it’s awfully ironic that she’s the one drawing them there.

It made her skin crawl, the thought of someone just casually perusing through all her possessions like they were what was for sale in the Whiterun market.  If she was a woman of more financial means maybe she could afford to sell them all (or just burn them, even) and get new ones that she would be certain no one but her has touched, but selling the odd thing or two and doing odd jobs like taking down small groups of bandits and whatnot had never proved to be very lucrative, and though she only had a few pieces of armour and some dresses and tunics, there’s no way that she would ever be able to repurchase all that she’d bought over the last few years.  Getting rid of everything she owns will have to just stay as a fantasy, though a fresh start always sounds great.

Hopefully that’s what she can get out of the Companions: a fresh start.  Maybe her reputation outlives her and they’ll be off put by rumours flooding through the town, that would be rather ironic, would it not?  She laughed to herself from the false sense of safety of weak wood paneled four walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say this every time but I'm still working on updating this often school is just also a thing I have to do a lot of work for


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid's abilities are put to the test when she tries to join the Companions

The massive wooden doors to Jorrvaskr stood tall and daunting in the brilliant mid morning sunlight.  Her nerves were ablaze, she had barely slept. The stress of what was to come today had made itself great friends with the stress of seeing the note two nights ago.  

She’d burned it.  Last night. She couldn’t sleep because of it, and it was still on her bedside table, taunting her.  She’d almost been too scared to touch it before, like the more she touched it the more it would come to life, the more it would be real.  Her fingers had never had the ability to bring anything to life (she’d never been skilled with magic) but just feeling the smooth parchment against her calloused hands made the threat so much more real, even just looking at it.  So she put an end to that, under the cover of darkness she grabbed the note, the feeling of it made her sick, and made her way downstairs. The fire in the parlour was burning low but very much alive. Without thinking twice she tossed the note in, her eyes glazed over as it turned to ash in front of her.  Her throat had been choked up, her eyes were watering, and her chest was heavy and tight. It was the fear, honestly, no matter how much she’s separated who she is now from everything that has happened to her leading up to this time they could never entirely be two separate entities. She tried hard not to think about it that often.  So much energy devoted to keeping her mind off the things that consistently seem to always drag her down.

The note was gone but the fear still remained.  It made her feel dirty.

The air around her was rapidly warming up as high noon crept closer and the wind blew so hard it felt like all the buildings could collapse at any moment.  She was just killing time at this point, but her nerves made her feel like she was on fire.  _ Maybe I should’ve gotten drunk first _ , she thought to herself,  _ it would have made this easier _ .  She had too much riding on this now, the need to get away seemed like the only way to feel better.  If they did reject her, there wouldn’t be anything she could do about it so it’s best to just get the hardest part over with.

She took a deep breath, in and out, to quell her heart rattling around in her chest.  Shaking hands opened the grand door open, giving her refuge from the wind blowing through her like she barely existed at all.

The current state of chaos inside calmed her.  A Nord and an elf were in the middle of brawling in the mead hall, others gathered around them watching.  The Nord leaves the victor, her lip is bloody and she’s panting but everyone is smiling and laughing, holding up tankards with beer sloshing out the sides and spilling onto their armoured boots and the floor.  Despite the chaos, it’s warm and inviting inside.

The calamouring seems to subside and she catches the eye of someone who seems to be in charge.  “How may I help you?” He’s an older Nord, strong and weathered from battles past, his voice is gruff but his face is weathered but friendly.  “Looking to join the Companions, I see?” He answers his own question before Ingrid gets a chance.

“Yes,” she says, clear and full of all the confidence she could find within herself.

His eyes scan over each other for what feels like an eternity.  Ria appears by his side. “Kodlak,” she greets him. “I met her outside the town the other day fending off a group of bandits, I believe that she can hold her own.”

He nods in what seems like approval.  “If that’s true.” He turns from Ria to meet Ingrid’s eyes.  “I can’t see why you would not be an adequate addition to our guild.  What’s your name?”

Relief floods through her followed alongside suspicion.  It couldn’t possibly be that easy, there had to be a catch somewhere.  Were they just luring her into a false sense of security before testing her loyalty?  “Ingrid,” she replies, she swears she sees a flash of recognition in his eyes, but his face soon becomes more serious than before.

“Do you believe yourself to be honourable and proficient in battle?”  He asks her.

“Yes,” she responds firmly.

Kodlak signals to a man standing a few metres away, he’s tall and and in heavy fur armour.  He looks strong enough to rip a man’s head off with his bare hands if he looked at him the wrong way.  “Vilkas,” he starts. “Would you test the abilities of our new recruit?”

That’s a pretty vague statement.  What, is he just going to stab her and see what happens?

“That sword.”  Vilkas gestures to the weapons strapped to her hip.  “It enchanted?”

“No,” Ingrid answers.

His sword swings, coming too close for comfort to her abdomen as she jumps back very close to being too late, her reflexes weren’t fast enough and she stupidly did not see that coming.  The back of her thighs hit the buffet table behind her causing the plates and mugs to clatter, she hears cheers and claps coming from the group around her who’ve taken steps back from the altercation.  She ducks under Vilkas’s next swing, unsheathing her sword and striking towards his legs. He sees that coming and preemptively steps back before she even got close.

He knows what she’s going to do, he’s done this a million times probably.  He could be holding back right now, and if he stops he could probably gut her like a fish right where she stands.  Vilkas is smart, too, and quick on his feet. He can guess with relatively good accuracy what she’s about to do.

_ But _ , his sword is heavy, heavier than hers, and it slows down his swings just a but.  If there’s one way she could get a step up here it would have to be faster than he can swing to block it.  Or something he can’t block.

Vilkas swings for her shoulder and Ingrid holds up hers, they meet mere inches from her chest with an ear piercing crash and a flurry of sparks.  Vilkas pushes all his weight and strength onto her shaking arms, his skin near glowing from the fire beside them, also reflected in his eyes a mere few inches from her face.

Her sword is forced closer towards her, she’ running out of options as fast as she’s running out of time.  He’s stronger and bigger than her. She hooks her foot around his right leg, pulling her sword back she ducks under his next swing and slams into his chest with her shoulder.  He didn’t see it coming and he flies backwards, slamming into the thick wooden table behind him, the pelts of his armour splayed across it.

Without missing a beat Ingrid crouches down, pulling a small dagger from her boot.  Her breath halts in her chest and she prays to Talos she doesn’t miss, from her crouched position she releases the knife.  It launches forward, the fire glinting in the iron of the blade. The dagger misses Vilkas’s thigh by only an inch and lodges itself firmly in the dark wood through one or two of the thick pelts that make up his armour.  It was too close to the vital arteries in his thigh than she’d intended, but she’d never tell anyone here that. She thanked the nine that she didn’t miss by more. Vilkas turns to the knife with surprise and then to Ingrid.

Kodlak nods in approval in approval.

“Good job, recruit.”  Vilkas examines the knife pinning him firmly in place, pulling on the hilt slightly.

“I’m going to be honest,” Kodlak starts, his tone drops a lot of its original formality.  “Our numbers are dwindling, and you seem… sufficient. That being said, we would be able to offer you a position here.”

It couldn’t have been that easy, could it?  She just threw one knife, an inch off target, at that.  This had to be a second part of the test, they’d give her a false sense of hope and then watch her like hawks.  “You seem to be acquainted with Ria,” Kodlak continues. “I’ll let her show you to your bed.”

The crows surrounding her begins to disperse.  Vilkas walks up to her, placing the dagger in her hand and grabbing her on the shoulder in congradulations.  She barely reacts, still too shocked to take in any of what was happening around her.

“Congratulations,” Ria grins.

“Yeah,” she breathes, staring ahead and running the dagger over with her fingers.  She takes a deep breath, resetting herself. “I didn’t think it would be that easy, honestly.”

“It wasn’t, Vilkas is one of the best fighters we’ve got.  I mean, he was probably going a bit easy on you, well, not too easy but nothing more than you could handle.  For a while it looked like he had the best of you, too.”

“He did,” she meets Ria’s wide smile.  Almost giddy now in near disbelief.

* * *

 

The temperature dropped noticeably to the basement of Jorrvaskr, no wonder every bed down here is piled high with pelts.  Ria shows her to her bed, in an open room surrounded by beds and chests belonging to some of the other Companions. The fact that the room is shared gives her a sense of comfort, she hadn’t shared a room with anyone since she had with her younger sister as a child.  And, well, if anyone was to come for her they’d likely barely stand a chance against a room of highly trained warriors. She liked those odds.

The cool air made her want nothing but to wrap herself in the pelts that made up the bedspread Ria pointed too as being Ingrid’s.  Walking out of the bedroom she’s greeted by an older woman, her hair light grey like a fire’s faint smoke, her face is weathered but her faded brown eyes have a friendly glint to them.

“Birsa watches over the place,” Ria says.

“Welcome, dear,” Birsa smiles, patting Ingrid on the shoulder.

“Thank you,” Ingrid replies politely.

“This is exciting, you know,” Ria starts as they part ways with Birsa.

“Why?”  Ingrid asks, despite the obvious for her, of course.

“I used to be the newest member but you’ve got fresher blood.”  Ria laughs and jostles her. Ria’s outgoing energy is refreshing.  “And it’ll be good to have a new face around too,” her tone changed drastically to something more serious.  “Things haven’t been too great recently, so it’ll be nice to change things up a bit.”

Ingrid nods mindlessly.  That makes sense, she thinks, it was way easier than she’d imagined to get; if things aren’t looking up for them it makes sense that they may have lowered their standards a bit.  That grates at her slightly, if they hadn’t been so desperate to up their numbers would they just have turned her out on the street?

“You haven’t met everyone yet,” Ria continuous with her joyful tone.  “But you will soon. Some of the more senior members have real rooms down that hallway.”  She gestures vaguely to her right.

A woman, tall and strong with with green warpaint over her stark features is watching them from a doorway to one of the bedrooms.  As soon as she sees Ingrid take notice of her she all but vanishes into the dark room behind her.

“Who’s that?”  Ingrid questions, unsettled by her looming presence.

“Oh,” Ria says.  “Don’t worry about her.”

* * *

 

“Good afternoon, dear,” Hulda greets Ingrid as she enters the main hall in the Bannered Mare in the early evening.  She’d left Jorrvaskr saying she had some loose ends left to tie up, which is true, though she did spend an hour or two wandering around the countryside feeling guilty about what was to come.

Ingrid’s chest feels heavy, it’s for the best but the guilt of leaving is weighing her down.

“Is something wrong?”  Hulda’s eyebrows raise in concern.  Ingrid sits in one of the bar stools opposite Hulda, as she pours her a tall glass of a dark ale.  She downs it without thinking twice.

“Noーyesーmaybe.”

“Which one is it?  That’s every option,” Hulda laughs but concern is set deep in her eyes.

“I have to leave,” Ingrid sighs.

“What, why?”

“Someone, they’ve found me, I think.  When I came back from my… trip, there was a note on my nightstand, it said someone found me.”  The words fall out of her mouth rapidfire and nearly overlapping, Hulda seems to follow along though.  This happens a lot when she’s nervous, her mouth didn’t know how to contain her words anymore and everything decided to make an appearance all at once.

“Oh, honey,” she sighs, her expression softens with sadness.  “You can stay here. I can get more security, I can make sure you’re safe.”

“I can’t let anything happen to anyone here.  It would kill me.” Her chest feels tight, she pushes down the tears welling up in her downturned blue eyes.  She’s always felt a sense of protectiveness over the Bannered Mare, what kind of protector would she be if she was the reason something happened to someone.  “And maybe it’s just time, I don’t know.”

“I can’t stop you.”  Hulda rests her hand under Ingrid’s chin, tilting up her head so that they meet at eye level.  “You’ve grown into an incredible young woman, Ingrid, and I am so incredibly lucky to have had you here for the last six years.  If you want to leave, because you’re an adult and not out of fear, I will not stop you and offer my full support.” Hulda smiles sweetly, her love contagious.

Words can’t describe how grateful Ingrid is for her family friend turned pseudo-mother.  She doesn’t know where she’d be if she had never come here after what had happened when she was 16, but it would probably be exponentially worse than her current situation.  Emotions swell inside her and the only thing she can force out is a soft “Thank you.” Hulda nods, holding Ingrid’s hands in hers on top of the bar between them. She has known Ingrid almost all her young life, she knows that sometimes less is more and that that simple ‘thank you’ is heartfelt.

“Ma’am?”  A middle aged man with greying hair in a warn blue tunic steps closer to the bar.

Hulda turns towards him, plastering on a customer service smile.  “Yes?”

“Just a cup’a your strongest ale, if you would.”

She pours his drink and he slides two septims over the bar before returning to some friends gathered around the fire.  Ingrid’s grateful for the small break giving her to wipe away the tears forming in the corners of eyes and take a few deep breaths to ensure there will be nothing more from where they came from.

“Do you have somewhere to go?”  he returns to Ingrid.

“Yes,” she grins, excited to share the good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have like a really solid idea of where i want this all to go and im excited for everyone to see it :) i also just like putting lesbian content out into the world because who doesn't need more of that
> 
> also let me know if it feels like the chapters are too short because idk about that im really unsure about it lol


	5. Chapter 5

The first few weeks of being an  _ official _ (whatever that means) member of the Companions were uneventful.  By the first night the majority of her possessions into her chest in Jorrvaskr.  A few odd things had been put in a drawer for storage still in the Bannered Mare, Hulda was very clear that there would always be space for her there whenever she needed it.  Maybe she would need it. This could still backfire gloriously, there was always that possibility.

Most of the Companions had more or less warmed up to her, at least they accepted that she was more or less going to be around for a while.  The woman Ingrid had seen on her first day in the living quarters still said anything to her, and was probably the only one here that she had yet to speak to.  Other members had said just not to worry about her, who she’d also learned was named Aela, which was more or less a non-answer. Her cold demeanor made Ingrid really want to figure out what the fuck her deal was.

On the positive side, she’d learned more about sword fighting in the last three days than she’d had in her whole life.  Before long she’d probably be able to hold her own against Vilkas or Skjor, she was even closer to being on equal footing with a few of the less experienced members.  Without throwing daggers, though, apparently she isn’t allowed to do that in regular everyday sparring. They say that some of her tactics are more ‘street fighting’ than honourable guild worthy fighting.  It also would probably not reflect well on her if she threw a knife into the chest of another member. She had no problem with learning more honourable fighting however, it could be useful to know both.

Every few days Ingrid still goes to see Hulda, and Saadia, and everyone at the Bannered Mare.  It was only a five minute walk and how could she abandon her home for six years out of the blue?  Though it was definitely for the best, she hadn’t seen any ominous notes in Jorrvaskr yet. Which has been nice.  And even if she did, at least here she’d probably have at least a fighting chance. Since she hadn’t heard anything since it was completely within the realm of possibility that it had been a hoax, but she’d rather be safe than put those around her with little proper fighting training in danger.

Upon returning to Jorrvaskr from having breakfast at the Bannered Mare like she often did on Sundas, the air inside felt still as a dead man’s heart.  The only person she could see inside was Birsa sitting at one of the heavy wood table, slicing up a green apple with a pocket knife.

“Good morning,” Birsa greets, popping one of the apple slices into her mouth.

“Good morning,” Ingrid answers.  “Where is everyone?”

“Oh, just here and there.  Some hunting, some running errands.  I think Aela should be downstairs somewhere.”

_ Great _ , Ingrid thinks.  The last thing she needed was to alone with that woman and her ice cold glares.  “Thank you.” Ingrid smiles politely to the older woman as she takes her leave towards the living quarters.  She’d slept horribly last night and her tired body was begging for a mid-morning nap. No matter how many cups of coffee she’d drank at the Bannered Mare she still wasn’t able to feel fully awake.

In the living quarters she felt wary knowing that Aela was down there somewhere too, she has another room though, thankfully.  It was beyond Ingrid why Aela held such contempt for her, especially since her first day when they had yet to even interact. Not that they’d interacted up until this point, anyways.  Maybe it is possible that she had irritated her within the first twenty seconds she was here, or that she was like this with all new members because everyone else just kept saying not to worry about her.  

She lied in the chilly basement, wrapped in the pelts on her bed she waits for sleep to come.  It doesn’t, unfortunately, it never comes easy. At night, if she needs it, she’ll down some harder drinks to make it pass easier.  This wasn’t the result of some traumatic event, she’d had difficulty sleeping since childhood but the constant need to look over her shoulder in adult life did not help at all, being in a sleeping state was just being vulnerable to attacks for an extended amount of time.  Or at least that’s how she validated the sleepless nights to herself.  
  


* * *

 

“Wake up,” a rough voice says above her closed and barely awake eyes.

A confused “what” was the first thing that came out of her mouth, prying her tired eyes open to see Aela standing over her, her muscular arms crossed and a frown under her green warpaint.

“Get up,” she answers, clearly low on patience.

“Yeah, got that, why?”  Ingrid answers as she sits up on the bed, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Kodlak said to spar with you since everyone else is out today, meet me out back when you decide to join the waking world.  It’s noon.” She turns and leaves just about as quickly as she came in.

_ Great _ , she thinks, kicking her legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool stone under her feet.  She pulls on some leather boots and light armour over her linen underclothes. She has little reason to think that she’s being drawn into some kind of trap, it’s not like Aela would talk to her without absolutely having to.  

 

“About time,” Aela said dryly when Ingrid opens the doors to the training ground behind Jorrvaskr, taking a last sip of ale before putting the tankard on a table beside her.

“Whatever,” Ingrid barely has time to respond before Aela is charging at her, sword and shield drawn.

Ingrid is able to dodge the sword but miscalculated greatly, she jumps to the side with Aela’s shield.  She notices her mistake too late, the shield forces her backwards, Ingrid’s legs hit the table behind her with such force that she falls on her back onto it, empty plates and cups clang at the disturbance.

Aela swings her sword, not likely trying to hit Ingrid, just to get her to dodge it.  She rolls onto her left to avoid the strike, hearing the crack of wood when they make contact.  Maybe the fact that she’d recently been nearly asleep was making her sloppy, she had rolled herself right of the table and her body slammed onto the cobblestone ground.  Her shoulder will feel that later.

“ _ Come on _ , recruit.”  As Ingrid tries to push herself onto her knees she feels the steel of Aela’s sword press in between her shoulder blades pushing her back onto the ground.  “You’re going to do better than that, or you’re going to get fucking slaughtered the second you go up against someone who’s really trying to kill you.” She pulls back her sword, allowing Ingrid to get up, even giving her a minute to steady herself on her feet.  “Get your sword, I’m only going to beat you fairly.” She even throws down her shield so that they’re both armed with only a lighter sword. A truly fair fight.

Their swords meet with a loud crash, both pouring all their strength into the hilts of their swords.  Ingrid steps back and adjusting her grip, ducking under Aela’s swing, she leans forward to strike towards Aela’s flank only to be blocked by the brunette.

Aela lifts her arms to swing at her, instead of trying to dodge it this time Ingrid throws her weight into her sword, forcing Aela backwards.  She turns on her heel in order to catch her balance and Ingrid sees her break. Aela is facing away from her with her sword between herself and the wall of Jorrvaskr.

With her shoulder Ingrid checks her forward and Aela’s sword hits the wall with a crash, Aela’s own body pins it in place.  Ingrid twists her other other arm behind her back, holding her firmly in place. To finally seal the deal she retrieves her trusted knife from her leather boot and holding it to her throat.

The Huntress’s breath is heaving and ragged, she struggles against Ingrid’s hold on her to no avail.  “Good job, recruit,” she growls through gritted teeth.

“My name’s Ingrid, not recruit,” she responds, releasing Aela from her grasp.

“Whatever.”

 

* * *

 

“Ingrid,” Kodlak starts, interrupting her from her dinner.  “I must speak with you at once, meet me in my quarters.”

“Yes, sir,” she answers with false confidence.  Panic fills her chest as her mind swirls with the possibilities of what information about her past could have gotten out.

The slam of the door behind her causes her to jump as she waits in silence for Kodlak to address her.  “When you first walked in here I had felt as though I knew you from somewhere, but had to be certain first.”  She doesn’t know how to respond, all she can manage to do is nod along. “You look white as a ghost, daughter, this has nothing to do with your legal history.  That’s not of the same level of importance.” Relief floods her body and she exhales deeply. “I have reason to believe that you’re the Dragonborn, is this true?”

Her eyes grow wide.  Why would he need to know?  Is this some sort of elaborate set up?  Illusion magic could have possibly tricked her into believing that whoever could be Kodlak.

He sighs at her lack of response.  “When you first appeared here I remembered one night when a woman of your appearance was dragged down from Dragonsreach by the guards in chains during a dragon attack close to Whiterun.  A rather loose lipped guard shared with me that they believed a woman named Inga to be the Dragonborn, Unfortunately that guard just happened to be particularly unintelligent and I believe heard your name incorrectly.  I have since looked further into the matter and spoke to the head of the guard who confirmed my suspicions, that you are the Dragonborn.” He pauses. “Now, is this true?”

“Yes,” she whispers.  “It is all true.”

He leans back in his chair and taps his chin with a finger.

“I just have to ask,” she says.  “Why does it matter?”

“My suspicion made you of interest to me, I don’t want to control you.  Though, I do want to know, if there were sightings of dragons across Skyrim would you be willing to travel in order to keep innocent citizens safe?”

“Yesーwhat kind of question is that?”

“Word has been spreading about increasing amounts of sightings around the province, have you not heard?”

“No, not at all, my only knowledge is from when I’ve been taken there by order of the Jarl, or the few times I’ve run into them myself.”

“Didn’t that make you wonder, though?  Why you seemed to have run into more on your own than there has been record of in the last several hundred years?”  He leans forward, slamming his fist on the table to punctuate his point.

“I guess I just figured that they were drawn to me maybe?  Or that I was just unlucky?” She feels rather stupid saying her reasoning outloud, it sounded ridiculous.

“When I next receive word of sightings, I will call on you.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

* * *

 

She returns to her quarters in a daze, trying to process the recent news.

“Everything okay?”  Ria asks as they pass each other in the corridor.

“What?  Ohーyeah,” she smiles politely wanting nothing more than to lie down in the dark of her chambers and try to rack her brain around everything she’d just heard.

“Alright,” Ria answers distrustingly but she doesn’t pry and continues to make her way upstairs.

The dark of the quarters brings her comfort as well as the soft sounds of Njada fast asleep.  She closes her eyes, feeling the soft fur of the pelts brush against her shivering skin. Something happened and has seemingly made all dragons in Skyrim her responsibility and every like month or so she’ll just have to travel across all of Skyrim to defeat them?   _ So what?  _ She thinks.   _ Is this just my lot in life now? _

Maybe it’s genetic?  Her sister, mother and father could have possibly been subjected to this well.  Just to be some kind of dragon slayer on demand. Whenever someone asks, she’ll definitely go.  She knows herself, and knows for a fact that if she refused and something terrible happened it would eat her alive.

Maybe she’s lucky that she’s with the Companions, if Kodlak is right and the dragon sightings are becoming more common it’s possible that some would give her less choice about whether to go or not.  Not that she really had a choice now, but at least it was posed that way, and she got to live here, and have a bed, and food, and it seemed like there was at least a hint of mutual respect. If the Jarl had gotten his hands on her first he could just keep her at an arm’s length in the Dragonsreach dungeon until she’s needed.

 

All she wants is to sleep, to be dead to the world for the next seven hours but nothing seems to be going in her favour.  The anger and frustration making her more awake than ever.

She pulls herself to her feet, grabbing a sword and her boots and walking back up the stairs and out to the back courtyard where she had been sparring with Aela earlier.

The air is frigid, she was nearly shaking from the cold.  Her father wouldn’t be happy to know that a Nord like his daughter is  _ cold _ before there’s even snow on the ground.  It would have been smart to put on a knit pullover or even just wrap a pelt of blanket around her shoulders but admittedly it hadn’t occurred to her in the heat of the moment and her tunic didn’t seem to provide her with any warmth whatsoever.

With all the force within her she swings her sword to a target dummy.  It shakes on its post. Her shoulder is painted blue and purple with bruises from her fall earlier, grunting at the pain searing through it when she strikes the dummy.

She swings again, this time yelling in time with her blade making contact with the person shaped hay filled burlap sack.  Anger crawling its way to the surface. Selfish anger that she’ll never have a day off, that she’ll always have to be ready to go and defeat whatever she needs until the day that she’s fucking dead.  She regrets feeling like that, being the Dragonborn shouldn’t be treated like some unwanted burden, admittedly it has its perks, though any day now she could just be called to the middle of nowhere and burned alive where she stood.  She throws her sword to the floor and it clamours on the cobblestone.

“What are you doing out here?”  A surprised voice asks from behind her.

Ingrid turns to see Aela standing with her arms crossed outside the doors.  “I could ask you the same thing,” she answers trying to keep her cool, in no mood for Aela’s standoffishness.

“I don’t have to answer to you just because you beat me once in a fight.  I’m going hunting.” She sounds defensive, but still provides an answer.

“Hunting?  It’s way past midnight, you won’t be able to see anything in the dark.”  Confused at Aela’s answer, Ingrid raises her eyebrows.

“You wouldn’t be able to hunt anything.”

“Of course not!”  She bursts, throwing her hands up in the air.  “What? Can you see in the dark?”

“No, but I  _ can _ hunt in the dark,” Aela’s voice would sound gloating if there was even an ounce of emotion in it.  It infuriated Ingrid more, the way that she just didn’t seem to care. The whole time she’s been here she just hasn’t been able to get a read on her at all, nothing Ingrid can say or do can seem to get a reaction out of her.  At first she’d been trying to gain Aela’s favour but by now she was just trying to get her to react,  _ at all _ .  Ingrid doesn’t respond, and Aela walks past her without saying a word, disappearing into the night as fast as she had appeared.

As soon as the Huntress was out of ear shot, Ingrid forms a fist and punches the practice dummy in hay filled burlap chest with all the strength in her tired body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed, happy valentine's day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I was gone for like ever but this isn't done!

Over the next week, Ingrid had continued to become more accustomed to her new life and routine.  She hadn’t spoken to Aela since that night in the courtyard, where her defensive demeanor nearly pushed Ingrid over the edge.  Maybe it was for the best, nothing she seemed to be doing had any effect on Aela’s opinion on her. She’d never cared too much about the opinions of others around her, especially if it seemed to be out of her control, but something about Aela’s distaste irritated her because she could not for the life of her figure out why.  Especially not when everyone else she’d met here has treated her with warmth and welcoming arms, or at least with indifference.

She _wanted_ Aela to like her, though, or at least tolerate her.  She wanted to unlock whatever it was hidden behind her cold grey eyes.  The way she held herself made sure that anybody in any given room knew that she was capable of slaughtering them in ten seconds flat.  Ingrid ached to know what made her tick.

What added on to her curiosity was that when she had asked about Aela, she had just been told ‘not to worry about it’ or that ‘it’s nothing’.  Which is bullshit. Obviously Aela has some strange reason behind her unsubstantiated opinion, though it’s probably not worth the effort it would take to find out what it is.

Maybe Aela was just weird, or it’s something innate about who Ingrid is a person.  In that case Aela can die mad about it. There was no way she would change the fibres of her being to receive the approval of some woman she’d barely met.  Even if she was attractive, and something about her rough demeanor made Ingrid want to know more, she found it endearing in some confusing way.

Earlier that day the Companions had been sent word that a bear had been bringing havoc onto a small farm by killing livestock a few kilometres south of Whiterun.  Kodlak had requested Ingrid and Njada take out the nuisance. Ingrid didn’t mind, she appreciated the chance to go out and see the world, she hadn’t left the city gates in nearly a week.  She hadn’t even been hunting in nearly two weeks, when she has time she sometimes brings some catches to give to Hulda or to sell. That free time, however, was becoming more and more scarce since she agreed to be the Companions’ in house dragon hunter.  The training had become more and more intense and incredibly time consuming, she lied down at night, swaddled in pelts, with her limbs aching all the way down to the shaking bones within them. She was less expandable now. The Companions were in possession of one of if not the only known live Dragonborn, they couldn’t risk her dying for whatever reason.

Njada reminded her of Aela.  They didn’t necessarily look alike, though maybe they were both Ingrid’s _type_.  She’d always had a thing for a beautiful woman with a sword.  The main similarity came from their demeanor, particularly their attitude towards Ingrid.  Except even Njada had warmed up to her over the last few weeks, whereas Aela had made no progress whatsoever.  Maybe she wouldn’t go as far as to call Njada a friend but she did thoroughly believe that if given the opportunity, Njada wouldn’t slit her throat in cold blood.  Or at least she hoped not.

“What the fuck are you doing?”  Njada stage whispers to Ingrid, grabbing the back of the collar of her leather armour and stopping her dead in her tracks, and dropping to a crouch, hidden by the bushes surrounding the path.

“What?”  Ingrid asks dumbly, ashamed she’d been too far into her own thoughts to realize how far they had even come.

“What do you mean _what_?  The bear’s twenty metres away!”  She put a hand to her forehead, gesturing to the right with the other.

Ingrid followed her gesture to see the large hunched over brown body of a grizzly, too distracted by something in the bushes to notice their presence.  “Oh.”

Njada sighed.  “It’s fine, just kill it, wouldn’t you?”

Ingrid nods as Njada draws her sword, the iron glinting in the high midday sun.  Njada approaches the bear slowly, waiting for Ingrid to make the first move. And she does, gripping the hilt of a throwing knife (a _real_ throwing knife not just whatever dagger she had on hand) she squares her aim, visualizing exactly where she would have to release to hit the bear.

Njada nods to give her the go ahead, her stern features casting harsh shadows across her skin.

Ingrid throws her knife, reaching for a second one as soon as she releases it.  Her knife tears into the upper back of the bear, it roars in pain. Guilt pulls at her slightly, but she knows that it will be over for the creature soon.  Njada takes her cue, leaping towards the bear, it takes her long legs only a few strides. Holding up her shield to block her vital areas from the claws and teeth of the bear, Njada swings her sword, making contact with the thick, matted fur on the back of its throat.  The bear roars, thrashing towards Njada; she brings her sword back, covered in the bear’s deep red blood.

Njada attempts to back away and use her shield to block the bear’s claws but moves too late, and is left with a shallow but painful looking gash on her lower thigh.  She grunts, with a final blow containing all her strength she brings her sword down, this time piercing the throat of the bear. With her sword at a completely vertical angle, exactly perpendicular to the forest floor, the bear is forced forwards, its body becomes tense before falling eerily still.

After a deep breath, waiting to make sure the bear won’t be making a comeback, Njada sheaths her sword.  “ _Fuck!_ ”  She growls, clearly pained.

Ingrid rushes over, asking over and over again if she’s okay.

“Yeahーjustーfuck, that hurt like a motherfucker,” she grimaces, pushing the words out through gritted teeth, letting profanities fall freely from her mouth.  Ingrid leans in closer to inspect the wound, it isn’t deep enough cause serious injury, or even likely scar too badly, but it would be irritating.

Ingrid pats her on the shoulder in comfort before leaning down to retrieve her knife from the back of the bear.

After Njada caught her breath and sufficiently ignored her pain, they began pulling the corpse of the bear closer to the road, then in the direction of the farm.  Leaving it out a little closer to the road, the speak to a member of the family, notifying them that their livestock should be safe for now.

Something pangs inside her, the family consists of a mother, father, and two young daughters and a son who couldn’t be more than six years old.  It reminds her of her own family too much. The mother standing in the chicken pen, throwing the feed at one of the daughters beside her, laughing at something she’d said.  It looks peaceful, serene.

As Dragonborn, it seems like serenity is a luxury she no longer possessed.

The mother thanked her, saying that the meat of the bear would feed them well over the winter, and that the pelt could make a beautiful rug to insulate the house and keep them warm.  Ingrid smiles at the mother and the young daughter, saying that it was no big deal. The Companions took almost no gold for the deal, it seemed like a worthy cause, the family couldn’t afford to lose anymore livestock this close to harvest season.

As they were leaving the two young daughters were busy playing with wooden swords, cheering jovially.  She could just remember doing that with her sister, Edla, when they were growing up. Her sister was a couple years younger and Ingrid would let her win, it made the young girl happy seeing her sister pretending to be stabbed and dramatically fall to the floor.

“Hey,” Njada says.  “Everything okay? You seem a little… distant.”  She cocks her head, her eyes scanning Ingrid.

“Yeah,” she answers, smiling.

“Whatever, kid, you just seem kinda off.”

“That family,” she trails off, looking back down the road leading up to the farm.

“What about ‘em?”

“They just reminded me a lot of mine,” she answers, sighing.

“You grew up on a farm?  Huh, doesn’t seem like it.”

“What do you mean ‘doesn’t seem like it’?”  She laughs, shoving Njada’s shoulder, trying to lighten the mood.

“You just, I don’t know, seem city hardened?”

“Good to know, I’ll put that on my resume.”

“Your petty criminal reputation doesn’t help.”

“Hey, petty criminals can come in all shapes and sizes.”  Ingrid hopes she’ll let it go now, that she won’t have to spend more time than she has to thinking about her family.  She isn’t really ever in the mood to talk about it, no offense to Njada.

 

* * *

 

When Ingrid and Njada return to Whiterun that afternoon the streets are bustling with travelers, merchants, and the like.  A man with arms full of chopped wood careened around the corner into Ingrid, knocking her off her balance. He apologizes quickly before continuing on his way, she lets him go, deciding it wasn’t worth her time to do anything about it.

Inside Jorrvaskr it’s no different, sometimes it’s a sanctuary from the chaos outside but others it’s no different.  Aela and Skjor were sitting at the long wooden table, laughing holding up cups of ale. Ria and Torvar are having a friendly sparring match, this time without weapons.  Athis is watching the fight from the sidelines and calls Njada over when they enter. She leaves and Ingrid is left standing in the doorway alone, taking in the scene in front of her.  The only one she sees with not joining in on some sort of fun is Kodlak. He came into the hall at the sound of Ingrid and Njada’s entrance, walking over to Ingrid with a determined stride.

“I need to speak to you.”  His voice was quiet and harsh.  “Now.” He gestured her to follow him into his quarters.  “Shut the door,” he says as she entered the room.

“Is something wrong?”  She asks, something not sitting right within her.

He sighed.  “I have received word,” his tone is sombre.  “There is a dragon attack, anticipated soon near Windhelm.”  Her stomach turned to stone. “I assume you know what is expected of you now, as of our agreement.”  She does. “You’ll be accompanied by Aela.” By the Nine.

“With all due respect, sir, even you have to see that she hates my gutsー” Kodlak holds up a hand to halt her mid sentence.

“I’ll need you _both_ to head out soon.”  Ingrid squares her jaw and holds her tongue.  “Mirabelle Ervine, at the College of Winterhold, has been working on something recently, she says that it’s a poison strong enough to paralyze or at least stun something as big as a dragon.”  She had never been one for archery but she’d heard that most known poisons weren’t potent enough to do damage to a dragon. “Aela is our best archer, and Mirabelle’s creation can’t be wasted on someone with a poor shot.”  He gives her a look that says he won’t take anymore of her protests.

“Yes, I understand,” she says, swallowing everything else she wanted to say.

“Good,” he directs her a map splayed out on a desk.  “Have you ever been to Winterhold?”

“Yes, but not for many years, three at least.”

“Windhelm?”

“Six months?  Maybe a year?”  She hadn’t been travelling much recently, and part of her deep down did yearn for it.  She missed the nights under the stars and the days spent on foot or horseback. She’d been to Falkreath a month ago, but her voyages had become far in between.

He pointed to the map, plotting out a good route for her, it would be best to follow the river north, then east at the fork, then north until she reached Winterhold, then go straight south to Windhelm.

“Now, once you reach Windhelm, you are to stay in town until the dragon is spotted.  If it’s possible please keep the battle outside the city.” Ingrid nods, unsure of how he expects her to plan exactly where the dragon will decide to strike.  “Speak to the guards there, tell them to come to you if they see something, say that I sent you, or the Jarl, or whoever, if that helps.” Oh, that could help.  The guards have never been on her side before. “Time is of the essence, the attacks are getting closer and closer together. We can’t predict when it’ll hit the city exactly, but it’s been seen from the city limits, they think it’s circling and closing in.  If it’s possible, you and Aela are to leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Kodlak.”  He said it like it was a suggestion, but Ingrid knew better than to think she could argue it.  Tomorrow she would leave for Winterhold.

“And as for your training, I have been keeping watch and though I trust your abilities, and I am aware of your few dragon body count, I am still wary.  Aela is one of our best, I hope you can understand that this isn’t anything personal, and I’m hoping you two will be able to put away your differences for the good of the people of Windhelm.”

Ingrid nods.

“I will brief Aela tonight, you are dismissed.”

“Yes, Harbinger.”  Ingrid’s relieved to leave and find some way to deal with this, she turns towards the door.

“Ingrid?”

“Yes?”

“Good luck, my child, I expect to see you back here soon.”

“I expect to be back soon.”

 

* * *

 

The sun’s beginning to set above the roof of Jorrvaskr, turning the sky incredible shades of red, orange, and violet.  She wanted to curse the Nine for her horrible luck. For sentencing her to weeks of being at each other’s throat with a woman as beautiful as she was deadly.

Anger boils to the surface, she tightens the grip on the hilt of her sword.  Pulling it from its sheath, she slashes towards the closest practice dummy. She barely registered the sound of iron hitting the burlap of its body.  She doesn’t at all register the sound of the door opening and closing to her back, until Ria is within her peripheral vision.

“Everything all right?”  She asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”  Ingrid doesn’t stop swinging her sword, hitting the practice dummy over and over again.

“Kodlak asked me to make sure you hadn’t run away.”

“That’s nice of him,” her breathing becomes more ragged with the increasing force she put into her strikes.

“Now why would he do that?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Nothing.  Just to make sure you were out here.”  Ria sighs. “And if you weren’t to try and find you.”

“Good to know I’m precious cargo.”  She stops, taking a deep breath or two and resheathing her sword.  “I’m being sent out, first thing tomorrow.”

“Okay?”  Ria questions.  “Why would that make you run away?”

“With Aela.”  Ingrid flops her body down on a bench to the side.  “A couple of weeks with her and I’ll be surprised if we don’t kill each other.  She fucking hates me.”

Ria sighs, sitting down beside her.  “Why?”

“It’s what I get for being the oncall dragonborn, and her being too fucking good with that damn bow.”

“That’s awful.”

“Maybe I just wanted for my reputation to not outlive me, I guess, to just be treated normally.”  Ingrid shook her head, looking to the sky. “By Talos I sound so fucking self-important!” She laughed at the ridiculous grandiose of her own words.  “Well, I hope you know what I mean.”

Ria nods.

“I’m not going to run away though, if that’s what Kodlak thinks.”

“Aela’s one of the best, you know,” Ria says sympathetically.  “You’re in good hands.”

“Yeah,” Ingrid sighs.  “Hands that I’ll find wrapped around my throat one night.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, that dragon won’t stand a chance.”  Ria strategically changes the subject, it’s possible that she agrees with Ingrid’s suspicions.

“I hope not.”

She sits with Ria in silence, watching the sunset.  The peace of the moment is nice, the calm before the storm.  Ingrid appreciated Ria’s friendship greatly, the calmness she got from just sitting beside her was just what she needed.  

Tomorrow would be chaos, she would spend the next few weeks with a woman who didn’t care if she lived or died.  Or maybe she did care, not happily, it couldn't reflect well on Aela if the dragonborn died on their first mission together, especially if her opinions on Ingrid were well known.  When the storm came, she would be ready.

It would be at least a two day journey to Winterhold, maybe more, and then another half to full day to Windhelm.  And then what? They were just to wait in some inn there until the dragon decided to show up? Only the Nine know how long that could take.

After her and Aela are trapped within close quarters for who knows how long, maybe it would be what it finally takes to give Ingrid insight into what it is that makes Aela hold such disdain for her.  That or one of them would be dead within the week.

Her mother had taught her the teachings of Mara as a child, though she had trained as a priestess of Dibella, she held Mara close to her as well.  Ingrid would need the goddess of love to make it through the next few weeks without snapping at Aela’s cold remarks. When she was younger, her mother had given her a cracked old amulet of Mara.  She hadn’t worn the amulet much recently, in some of her less than legal dealings she liked to not have any valuables on her person, just in case, but she’d seen it as she was moving some stuff out of the Bannered Mare and had realized how much she’d missed it, how it made her feel close to her mother.  She felt the weight of it against her chest under her armour, she would need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I vanished for like ever and you're totally allowed to yell at me for it but I had to do shit for school. I actually had this chapter done for a long time but the way I post these is that I only do once I'm 100% done the next chapter and the one after this was like 60% done (I have many that are mostly written but largely unedited), and I planned on posting it as long as I finished the next chapter, that just ended up taking months. Sorry!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :)


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